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 afford to hire one, I will fold a batch of our first circulars.'*

"Sure, I will," said Markham readily.

Bob Haven had brought a thousand circulars just off the press. Haven Bros. were to do all the printing for the mail order business. Mrs. Haven had made several sketches, little inch squares, showing the false moustache outfit, the wire puzzle, the initial jewelry and several other minor specialties. Below followed a list of nearly fifty articles, of which Frank had a small stock on hand and could replenish on short order from city supply houses with which he had made a definite arrangement.

The two boys spread out one of the mailing lists Frank had got from the salvage stock. Four boxes containing a thousand envelopes were placed ready beside the printed circulars. Frank put out the lights and locked the office door with the care of a miser securing his treasure.

Markham routed Frank out of bed at five o'clock the next morning. They arrived at the office by six. Somewhere Markham had learned the typewriter perfectly. By four o'clock in the afternoon the thousand circulars were all folded, and the thousand envelopes all addressed and stamped.

"Why, hello, my young friends," hailed the village postmaster cheerily, as this big mail was